July 11, 2012
I have reached another time zone, and, though in the same state, another world. I finally hit the road today, July 11, 2012, leaving my temporary home in Sioux Falls and travelling about 300 miles across the state.
The road was Interstate 90 and I finally started heading west again. It was a fairly pleasant morning with the temperature around 81 degrees. After picking up propane, I began driving on the Interstate and once again the endless miles of corn fields, mixed with some soy or cattle, continued to be the view. It was beautiful, yet boring. I had seen cornfields ever since I left Pennsylvania. At least it was growing and looking pretty lush despite the drought we’ve been having.
There are few towns of any consequence along the highway between Sioux Falls and the Missouri River and I had little reason to get off the highway other than for Gas. There are a few tourist traps. I passed a “old west” town or three and I was intrigued by a sculpture garden that had a huge buffalo statue facing the highway as a temptation for kids to tell their parents they want to stop at. I had driven to Mitchell on a previous day and had seen their Corn Palace, whose façade was decorated with corn and other grains. It is a small arena and it’s history dates back to the 1800s when locals built it to show how fertile the land was and to attract new immigrant farmers.
The miles continued to roll on. Breaking up the cornfields were occasional hay and soybean crops. But it was simply more fields.
And then I reached the Missouri River. I was reminded of a song I once heard; I think it was called “Across the Wide Missouri.” It is indeed wide; far wider than where I crossed the Mississippi in DesMoines, Iowa and about as wide as the Hudson as it flows under Tappan Zee Bridge. As a social studies teacher, one of the key components of the courses I taught was that mankind built civilizations in places where there was a source of fresh water. But there were no cities at this locale. And as one crossed the river there were rolling hills on the western banks. The same is true downstream along the Southeast South Dakota-Nebraska border. It is an abrupt departure from the farmland.
It is prairie land. For about 20 miles, I enjoyed the scenery simply because it was different. But eventually more flatlands were reached and the farming land was again my companion along the way. But it was somewhat different. There were far more hay fields and cattle farming was more abundant.
I was tempted to stop at yet another authentic western town tourist trap, whose billboards had been more than abundant. It featured some of the props used in making “Dances With Wolves,” Kevin Costner’s epic western movie. But as I reached the exit, I saw it was just a small set of buildings and I had at least a hundred more miles to travel. I was concerned about reaching my destination early enough to obtain a campsite before the park filled up. From East to West borders, South Dakota is just over 400 miles wide and a long trip. I hadn’t had much sleep in the past few days as I was busy finishing up a website for a company and packing up the trailer after six weeks in Sioux Falls. I was getting tired.
As I left Sioux Falls, it was a mild 81° around 1 p.m. with the highs expected to be around 88°. I was under the impression that the Western half of the state was somewhat cooler, but the car’s thermometer steadily climbed to 102° and stayed there. I started seeing signs that said, “welcome to the Badlands” and urging drivers to visit the various tourist traps along the way. To the south, I had a glimpse or two of the incredible buttes but was unprepared for what I was about to see as I turned off for Badlands National Park.
It is truly another world. In fact, many science fiction movies have been filmed in the area. It surely was part of the first “Planet of the Apes” films and also reminiscent of some of the movies about exploring Mars. It is very difficult to put into words but I will rely on photos and park literature to do so.
At one point in time, perhaps 500,000 years ago, the area was much like the prairies that are on both sides of it. They became mountains and canyons through erosion and deposition, or buttes. As I look out from my campgrounds, they rise hundreds of feet in the air. Yet they also fall hundreds of feet as well. I am not normally scared of heights, but staring down into these canyons terrifies me. One can easily fall off the cliff and as I become older and clumsier, the thought of going into a canyon and dying a slow agonizing death is not something I care to experience. Even some of the narrow roads scare me, as there are places where narrow turns are capable of ending in disaster.
And so I took some photos at an overlook and headed to my campgrounds. I had originally thought about camping in the free wilderness camping area near Sage Creek. It is near a buffalo herd. But the thought of being in desert heat for days on end quickly changed my mind and I opted for the Cedar Pass campground and its electric hookups and thus being able to have air conditioning.
After pulling and starting to set up, I discovered I had a minor problem. I had left the 8x8” block of wood I used for my hitch jack at the park I had left. I needed to see the campground host and get another piece. He was a very friendly person and led me to a storage shack where he accommodated me.
Perhaps now is a good time to talk about volunteers. They are the backbone of public parks where limited budgets make it probable that campgrounds would be closed without them. For a time ranging from a month to a season and sometimes year round, these hosts give their time in exchange for a free campsite for their RVs. Sometimes it’s around 20-25 hours. Other times it can be full time. Sometimes a host simply assists park visitors. At other times, cleaning and grounds maintenance is part of the package.
I will be spending the months of August and September at such parks in Oregon. One is near Astoria, in the Northwest corner of the state at the mouth of the Columbia River. This is where Lewis and Clark ended their westbound journey and turned back. I am working with the ranger there about doing some interpretive workshops about Lewis and Clark. The other park is near The Dalles, also on the Columbia River. The Dalles played a very important part in the Oregon Trail as settlers could mount their wagons on rafts and take the dangerous trek downriver for a few days instead of spending many more weeks on the trail itself.
In the private sector, there is also this type of operation. It is called “workamping” and full-time RVers exchange hookups for work. In many cases, it is usually around 20 hours of work per week in exchange for the campsite. Other arrangements include pay, usually minimum wage, for some or all hours. All this travel has left me pretty broke and I expect I will eventually wind up doing this.
Anyhow, after unhitching the truck from the trailer, I was treated to a beautiful sunset and I settled down to microwaving my supper. Here at this campground, there is no running water to the sites. There are faucets available to get potable water, but I try to keep water use to a minimum. I have an on-board fresh water tank that I use for flushing the toilet and occasional dish washing, but bathing is out of a sink and I don’t expect to have a shower for a few days.
As the moon started to rise, I had a hankering to visit Wall, a nearby town with a pretty fair tourist trap called Wall Drug Store. The store made its reputation in the 1940s by offering weary travelers free ice water. It has expanded to a series of stores ranging from a restaurant to western wear, jewelry stores, souvenir shops and more. It also has a “backyard” where travelers can wander around and see historical and art exhibits. There’s also an area where the kids can get relief from the heat with water spouts.
I took the scenic route through the park and the buttes took on another aspect. In the moonlight, the rust and grey colors turned to white and shadows all but disappeared. It was eerie and impressive. To the west, a storm started to brew and I could see flashes of lightning. I was unprepared for the numerous curves. But there was beauty everywhere. At the same time there was a sense of solitude. There is little noise other than from vehicles around here. If there was the howl of coyotes, I didn’t hear it. And I began to think about how alone I really was. I have a brand new truck, but if I had a breakdown, I doubt it I would be found for many hours at that time of night.
After about two hours I reached Wall. It was about 10:30 p.m. and I discovered something I should have known all along. The town, including Wall Drugs, had shut down. I am used to places that don’t go to sleep. I spent most of my life in the New York City metro area, first growing up in New Jersey and then living in Queens and Long Island for decades. I am used to 24-hour gas stations and supermarkets. But in the Midwest, with its farming tradition of dawn to dusk hours of work, things are far different.
So I went back to the campgrounds via Interstate 90, a much quicker journey, and continued to observe the clouds and approaching storm head towards me.
Just as I arrived at the campgrounds, the winds picked up and I took down my flag. I watched the approaching storm and suddenly saw a magnificent bolt of lightening stretch across half the sky. Even with the tall buttes, there are no trees or buildings to obstruct your vision. I was told the next morning that these flashes could be more than 100 miles wide.
We had a brief rain and I fell asleep to the drops hitting the roof.
July 12, 2012
It is hot out here. I woke up and walked to the bathroom feeling the sun burning on my skin. It is only 7 a.m. – which is kind of strange as most of the people I correspond with are in the East and I have to be aware of the time zones and not call them too late at night. But right now I’m not calling anyone. There’s no phone service. I have to be very careful. Today is a day to sightsee. I’m going around the scenic loop this time to Wall in the daylight. This time, the question is will I reach Wall before it opens for the day?
I stopped off at the nearby lodge, which has a restaurant and souvenir shop. I pick up a couple of patches for me (I have been collecting them much of my life) and a stuffed buffalo for my granddaughter. The purchase reminds me to ask where I can find them and I am given directions to the area where the wilderness campground is.
There are a couple of places like this loop. One is Skyline drive in Shenandoah National Park in the western part of Virginia. The other is along the Cape Anne, Massachusetts’s scenic coast drive. The three areas couldn’t be more different from a geographic point of view. But their beauty causes one to stop around every bend and take in the breathtaking scene that continues to be the same, yet different. Here in the badlands, every curve brings about a new surprise. There is incredible texture as winds have torn asunder the buttes and created different formations and colors. I frequently stop in the road to photograph various formations. There are also many scenic overlooks for people to park at. And I do.
I love the fact that I know photography and can control perspective, angle of view and depth of field to my advantage. At one point I turned off the main road on a dirt road to the wilderness campsite and I pass by Roberts Prairie Dog Town. These critters are actually rodents who are highly social. The “town is several miles wide and is dotted with openings from nests all over. There must be thousands of them. Out of many, the critters stand up holding their front paws together in a prayer position. They are delightful little guys since they tend to ignore me and do their own thing. A little further on is the Sage Creek wilderness campground. Unlike Cedar Pass, it is all but deserted. There is one solitary tent and at another picnic table an older couple and their adult son are having lunch. A few hundred yards away lies a buffalo herd and the campground is filled with dried out buffalo “chips.” I do some photography but they are too far away for some good shots. I look at one bull that is somewhat separate from the rest of the herd. I wonder if it is an outcast or simply the perimeter guard. I say hello to the people having lunch and can’t resist saying, “what kind of people really want a home where the buffalo roam?” We all laugh and I go on my way. But I do take a few moments to relieve myself and walk Pup.
Pup is acting a little different than he usually does. His laid-back disposition appears to be a little on edge. He normally tends to ignore everything that isn’t within about 50 feet of his own little universe. But he spends some time looking at the buffalo herd as if he is somewhat apprehensive.
As we leave the camp area, I turn away from the main road again. In about a mile, there is another buffalo herd. These are much closer, some roam along the road. Again I see the outsiders. As I drive slowly near them, stopping to photograph them from the truck, pup lets out an occasional warning bark when one comes too close.
It’s getting close to 9 a.m. now and I head back to the main road. Wall Drug is about 9 miles away and the badlands disappear and I am back on the prairie. It is a good thing because my brain was fried. All the unending beauty and God’s glory that I have seen overwhelmed me.
As I arrived in Wall, civilization has finally appeared. There are symbols of safety and comfort; a multitude of motels, gas stations and fast food restaurants. But it is time to see the world famous tourist trap. In the height of the depression, the Hustead family bought the only drug store within dozens of miles. After about five years, they realized that, what with the depression, they weren’t doing very well. Yet there were still a number of cars passing through the town and Mrs. Hustead figured out that people were probably quite thirsty, this being the badlands and all. So they put up signs along the highway offering for free something they had plenty of: ice water.
And business boomed! As you enter the southern part of South Dakota from Route 80 and go up Route 29, the first thing you see is a Wall Drug sign – at least 400 miles away. And as you go along Route 90 in the northern part, there are at least 50 signs for the store. As you cross the Missouri, you will find “Welcome to Wall Drug Country” even though the town is still a hundred miles away. It reminded me of Interstate 95 in the eastern Carolinas where billboards proclaim that there is a place at the Carolinas’ border, South of the Border, where mascot Pedro the mule promises everything from fireworks to food to western wear.
Come to think of it, Wall drugs offer much the same on a smaller scale. The signs are a lot smaller, way smaller than the billboards that Pedro offers various things such as “free parking, free air, free advice.” The signs are much more homey, reminiscent of the depression era. Wall Drugs takes up a block of the town, and another group of stores with similar architecture – movie western – have been built. There is a nice restaurant, all kinds of shops, and plaster sculptures of pioneers that you can take your picture with. They also have a back yard offering diversions such as water squirt area for hot kids of any age and a few art galleries. There is a giant cement jackalope in the middle of all this and I had someone take my picture of it. It was only later I realized the background had a strategically placed Wall Drug sign.
I got my free glass of water. They have cups right by the soda machine. They trust you to not take the soda. I had on a cap with my Army division patch on it and someone offered me a free donut and cup of coffee, which they give to any veteran who drops by. And, of course, I bought a couple of patches. They gave me a bumper sticker with the sale. I talked to them about workamping. Most of the people who worked there that I met did workamping. Wall Drugs even supplies its own private RV park for its employees. The people urged me to consider it but the extremes of weather and the fact they worked you on a full-time schedule prohibited me from considering it.
But if things get rough enough…
I couldn’t leave Pup in the truck too long so I walked him and we continued heading west to Rapid City, about 80 miles away. I wanted to see Mt. Rushmore. I was thinking about camping in the Badlands for another week, but was aware of a special deal at a RV resort called Rushmore Shadows, about 10 miles from the monument. They offered three nights for $29 and I stopped there and booked the weekend. You have to listen to a sales pitch for a time-share type of membership.
As I continued to climb through the Black Hills, the temperature also continued to go higher. It was about 102 when I reached the site. I was also dismayed to discover that my National Parks Senior Pass wasn’t honored for parking. They charged me $11 for an “annual” pass that only lasted to December. And they wouldn’t let Pup on the grounds. But they did suggest I park in a parking garage where he would be in the shade. I left the windows ajar and his bowl filled with water.
The monument was, of course, magnificent. But I had a little feeling of disappointment. I had seen it all before through photos and movies. It reminded me of the same feeling I had when I visited Niagara Falls last year. I was very impressed by the archenteron of the visitor center. There is an alley of flags from every state as you approach the monument. Of course, I had my picture taken there and I stopped in the gift shop for, what else, a patch. I saw some jarred foods such as the usual jellies and jams, but I also saw one with buffalo stew. I am told buffalo tastes wonderful but I’m an old man with half a bowel that protests way too often. I saw a bottle of wind called “Red Ass” that is made from rhubarb, but at $30 per bottle, it just wasn’t worth it since I don’t drink. But I may do some mail order for holiday gifts.
It was getting hotter and I didn’t stay very long. Pup was in the car waiting and we were on our way. The original plan was to return to the badlands, but there was a sign for Custer State Park and I wanted to see the game there. But the route took me along another incredible set of wonders. I found myself on Iron Mountain Road. Peter Norbeck, the designer of Mt. Rushmore, designed it. He travelled a route on foot and horseback to create the route. You travel the mountain along winding paths highlighted by granite tunnels designed to frame Mt Rushmore in the distance. And it is a part of the Black Hills National Forest. That’s right, I said forest. After more than a thousand miles of endless cornfields and flatlands, here were woods with towering ponderosa pines and steep cliffs. It was a small taste of home and I eagerly devoured it with both my senses and my camera. As I left the park, I immediately encountered deer and photographed them. I entered Custer at around 4:30 p.m. I still had several hours of daylight and I talked to a ranger who recommended I take the Wildlife loop road.
Again, it was mind-boggling. At every turn was a combination of magnificent grasslands combined with towering pine trees. And again my brain began to melt with the countless scenes of beauty around every bend. And suddenly, I was surrounded by buffalo.
Unlike the buffalo in the badlands, these bison had no fear of man. I suspect they are rather peeved at us for having the gall to intrude upon their territory. They stood in the middle of the road, refusing to move. I laughed at their stubborn natures and took the time to photograph them. Pup was none to pleased and began barking. But he calmed down fairly soon as he realized he was safe.
There were more, wild donkeys, more deer, more prairie dogs and more beautiful landscapes. As I left the loop, it was nearing sundown and I programmed the GPS to give me a route that avoided having to climb over Iron Mountain again.
As the sun set, we were back in civilization near Route 90 and I stopped at a McDonalds for some burgers which I shared with Pup. We then headed back to the heat of our campgrounds.
I don’t know when I started doing it. I think it was around the time I left Wall Drugs, but I started talking to my ex as if she was on the seat next to me. I knew she would have spent hours browsing through the gift shops there and I started to talk to her about the Badlands. She is a tough broad and would have camped there despite the heat. By the time I left the parks, she had disappeared but I was left with a horrible feeling. I realized just how much I had done to destroy what was a loving and kind marriage through my lies. Yeah, she was part of the problem, but I caused the problem with years of deceit. I spent much of the drive back to camp in tears and even as I write this, they again flow freely.
I reached camp exhausted, but managed to walk the dog. I struck up a conversation with my neighbors who were from Texas. They were headed to a small town in Pennsylvania for a wedding. I asked them the name of the town and it was Pleasant Gap. It was the town next to where I worked for a while and the ex and I had a wonderful meal at the local diner there. I excused myself and went back to my trailer to cry some more. In fact I fell asleep crying and woke up around 3 a.m. where I felt compelled to write a blog about how much I fucked up the marriage.
July 13, 2012
I woke up late and immediately walked the dog and fed him. It is my son’s birthday today. Yes it is Friday the 13th and when Matthew was born I figured out that he would be so blessed with a birthday on Friday about every seven years or so. I texted him a message and sent it later in the day when I was near the highway. I hope it went through. Today is my last day in this wilderness and I am spending it doing some cleaning. But there is one sight that I have yet to see. There is a nearby national historic site dedicated to the cold war era. It is the last remaining minuteman missile site. I posted a separate blog on this but it was eerie as I viewed the end of the world at a console. It reawakened memories of the Cuban Missile Crisis and brought a new reality about how close mankind was to utter destruction. I was a freakin freshman in high school and I hadn’t even kissed a girl yet!
The day ended and I wrote my blog and finished preparing for moving on. That night, I was treated to another incredible sunset. I walked away from the campgrounds and looked at the stars. Yet stargazing wasn’t what I thought it would be. Yes, we were far from civilization and its artificial light that blocks the true beauty. But here, there is a natural light as the sands of this wasteland reflect the moon and rise to the sky. If you stare for the sky as you let your eyes adjust, the stars do come out. But not nearly as vividly as in the eastern mountains.
July 14, 2012
It is moving day. I am going to the resort for three nights on a special $29 rate. I have to listen to a sales pitch, but have done so before. I arrive and check in and am led to the site, which is in a meadow. I am very disappointed. I had been expecting the finest in RV travel and the place is quite ordinary. The area where I am is in an open meadow where there are no trees, even though the campsite, a former ranch, abounds with them in other areas. The grass is dead, the result of the drought. I am upset the moment I set up. The sites are too close and my neighbor’s sewage line is two steps from my picnic table. I am at a slight angle and can’t right it with my jacks. Cooking becomes difficult. Eggs roll and pans slide. And at night, try walking to the bathroom on an angled floor. Again it’s 100° but the prairie winds will not permit you to set up your awning for some shade. I am very critical of the amenities. The clubhouse is too small; the pool is too small and filled with kids; the spa is too small and way too hot; the store prices are rip offs ($3.79 for a dozen eggs); Yadda, Yadda, Yadda. Life isn’t perfect and I’m peeved. I am simply too tired. It has been a long haul to reach here and worst of all the free Internet isn’t worth the price. I have been wanting to post blogs, Facebook comments, check e-mails and so on, but it takes ten minutes just to open my e-mail page. And I don’t like it at all. I am a cranky, self-centered S.O.B. and I don’t care. I go to Wal-Mart 12 miles away to pick up supplies like milk and eggs and do some writing. And then I discover there is no cable TV. I just pack it in and go to sleep. All night long, the wind buffets my trailer, waking me constantly. I am definitely not a happy camper.
I wake up and it is once again quite hot. That’s OK. I’m somewhat calmer. There is a non-denominational service at the pavilion and I decide to go to it. There is some good ole-fashioned country preaching and I miss it and my home church on Long Island dearly. The preacher calls the service “Praise on the Prairie.” And the ten of us who are attending each pick a popular hymn for us to sing. My choice is “Amazing Grace,” and I ask the preacher to indulge me by singing the fifth verse. Nobody in these parts ever heard of it, but the words are simple. You just sing “praise God” over and over to the melody. As the song ends, everyone is smiling, including me. It is a far cry from yesterday’s mood.
The man preaches from John 3:1-16. It’s the “you must be born again” scripture and I know it quite well. I’m not going to preach, but the story is about a powerful Jew named Nicodemus who visits Jesus to discuss how one can get to heaven and Jesus explains to him how to have a spiritual rebirth. Now, Jesus also tears a piece out of Nicodemus telling him that as a leader he should know and understand this. And for many decades, I just figured Nicodemus just walked away in sorrow after that.
But then this preacher man shows me something I never new. At the end of the book of John, when Jesus is buried, it is Nicodemus who helps anoint Jesus body with oil and spices. I am surprised to learn this and then it hits me that the things Nicodemus brought for Jesus burial are the same things the wise men brought to him at the time of his birth.
The preacher points out that no one is perfect, and neither are campsites. And after I go back to the trailer, I spend a lot of time in prayer. It is ironic that being on the top of a hill and its winds are a place where I spend a mountaintop experience with God once again.
I cry and talk about my fears. I feel comforted. I realize the blog I wrote about how I fucked up my marriage needs to be told. I need to drop the pretense of being good. I need to toss away my self-righteous attitude and confess my sins. And so I post this confession. I don’t know if I am right or wrong to do so. I just needed to do it. I am who I am and I have to wear those clothes.
Later in the day, I go into town once again. My truck desperately needs its oil changed and I go to Wal-Mart where I am told there is a three –hour wait. I find a place nearby and for the same price; I get a free car wash, which the truck desperately needs after having spent a trip across the state with all the bugs and dust from the badlands.
I go back to the campgrounds and spend time in the pool and the spa. It is the first time since early April that I have immersed myself in water. The pool is too cool, the spa is too hot and it is wonderful
That night, I go to sleep and get some real rest.
July 16, 2012
It is Monday morning and time for the sales pitch. Membership in this deal comes with a lot of advantages, but frankly, they aren’t for me. I don’t have enough family to share it with and it does not fit in well with my personal plans. I tell the person who is trying to sell me and he is very nice about it. As part of the deal, you get two tickets to the local dinner theater and I give them to the man next to me who is travelling with six kids. They also give us a beautiful set of prints of wildlife and I really like them.
I spend the day at the resort. The Wi-Fi is finally functioning and I download some updates to my operating system and upload a movie to Facebook. I catch up on e-mails and make a few calls. I go to the main building and do my laundry while lounging in the Spa.
Things are going my way today. My day of departure is in the morning and I am concerned about my money situation. Social Security is paid on the third Wednesday of the month, but my bank puts it in the account at the close of business on Tuesday. I am granted a late checkout for Tuesday at 4:30 p.m. With the difference in the time zones, I should be able to move the money from my savings to checking account before I leave the campsite via the Internet I was complaining so much about.
I also take another trip to Wal-Mart to pick up supplies. I’m heading for the wilderness and who knows when I’ll see another shopping area. As I go there and back, I am treated to a wonderful lightning storm in two different directions, east and south. About the time I arrive back to camp, the clouds open up and I am drenched as I move my purchases into the trailer. I laugh. It is the first significant rain I have seen in more than a month.
July 17, 2012
It is the day of departure. I start by securing my rig and hitching it up. I’ve pretty much secured the trailer. All that remains is to dump sewage and detach utilities. It is done fairly early in the day and I have more than enough time on my hands to finish writing this. As I write this, many small birds have perched at the neighbor’s water line by my window. With the rains from the previous night, the lawns have turned greener and flowers have burst open. The birds are drinking from the faucet’s drip. There is an especially beautiful blue one that I haven’t a clue of its breed. Perhaps it is simply a bluebird. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen one though blue jays abounded where I lived in the east.
I’m relaxed. It’s 2 p.m. and it’s time to finish the last of the chores. I’ll then take a list dip in the spa, take a nap, deal with the bank, and be on my way. It’s a ten-hour drive to Bozeman, Montana. I will take my sweet time and will spend tomorrow afternoon resting after arrival. Then it’s time for another incredible adventure – Yellowstone.
If you’ve managed to get through this nearly 6,000 words of drivel, I want to thank you so very much. I am a little tired and don’t intend to put up more than one picture with this, but you can see a movie of my photos at my website: http://www.michaelmunzer.com .
